


What Is This Feeling?

by the_nvisiblegirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternative Universe - Broadway, F/F, Hate to Love, Swan Queen Week, Swan Queen Week Winter 2017, Wicked - The Musical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9573422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nvisiblegirl/pseuds/the_nvisiblegirl
Summary: SQ WEEK DAY 1 - CELEBRITY AUEmma Swan, a Hollywood star, is asked to originate the role of Elphaba in the new Broadway musical Wicked. Her co-star, Regina Mills, who has worked her way up from the last row of the ensemble, seems to hate Emma's guts from the start. Or does she?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, y'all. Let's just pretend this isn't almost a week late, ok?
> 
> The story was inspired by
> 
> a) my never-dying love for musical theatre,
> 
> b) a tweet I came across on tumblr, which reads "when i was 7 i had a crush on a girl in my class & didnt know how to deal w it so I wrote her a letter that just said 'get out of my school.'" That's basically Regina in this story.
> 
> Please enjoy!

She still isn’t one hundred percent sure that this is actually a good idea. Sure, she loves musical theatre—has always wanted to be on Broadway and this is finally her chance to be exactly there. She can carry a tune well enough, can move her body without embarrassing herself. But she is first and foremost a movie actress—some would even call her a movie _star_ , because she’s been lucky, starring in several commercially successful films recently. Being on stage, live, in front of hundreds of people, however, is something else entirely. It’s raw, and impulsive, and thrilling. It’s what made her want to be an actress in the first place, so when her agent called her with an offer to play the lead role in a new musical on Broadway, she jumped at the opportunity. 

 

And now she is going to originate the role of Elphaba in Wicked.

 

Right now, the entire cast and crew are gathered for the first rehearsal. Everyone seems to know each other, but Emma knows literally no one, so she is just standing awkwardly in the corner, trying not to look as lost and uncomfortable as she feels. People keep looking over to her, but apparently no one dares to approach her. 

 

Emma, in turn, is looking at Regina Mills, the woman she knows will play Glinda, the second female lead. Other than that, though, she doesn’t know a whole lot about her. The brunette graduated from Boston Conservatory six years ago, has been in several Broadway shows—some of which Emma has seen, even—and is thought to be Broadway’s next big thing. 

 

Emma has met people who are way more famous than Regina without batting an eye, but if she’s being honest, she is beyond nervous right now, trying to muster up the courage to introduce herself to her co-star. Because Regina is drop dead gorgeous, and Emma always gets tongue tied as hell around gorgeous women. 

 

Regina has shoulder-length dark hair, full, red lips, and the body of a goddess, judging by the way her tight grey dress hugs her curves. Well, here goes nothing, Emma thinks as she wipes her hands on her pants, takes one last, deep breath, and finally approaches the other woman.

 

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Emma,” she says, extending her right to to Regina.

 

“I know who you are,” the brunette replies, looking at Emma’s hand without taking it. There is a moment of awkward silence as she gives the blonde a once-over that makes Emma’s skin crawl with the intense aversion in Regina’s eyes. Great, just great. 

 

She tries again. “I saw you in _In the Heights_ a while back. You were amazing.” 

 

“Thank you,” the other woman replies, still absolutely unapproachable.

 

“I’m really excited to get to work with you.” Emma isn’t normally this cheery, but, right now, she has to make up for the other woman’s complete and utter disinterest.

 

“Great.” Regina isn’t even looking at her anymore, but rather somewhere behind her. It’s almost like she’s looking right through Emma. There’s really no point in continuing this conversation. Like, at all, Emma realizes.

 

“Ok, anyway, I’ll see you around, I guess. Have a good first rehearsal, Regina,” the blonde says and gives the brunette what she hopes is an engaging smile, only earning a curt nod in response before the woman who is supposed to be her on-stage best friend turns on her heels and walks away without another word.

 

“Don’t worry about Regina, she’ll come around,” someone says behind her and she turns. Her eyes fall on a rather handsome guy—if you’re into that kind of thing, of course. He smiles.

 

“Hi, I’m Graham. I’m playing—” “Fiyero,” she finishes, because, looking like that, he just has to. He’s attractive in a boyish kind of way, with grey eyes and a beard without which he probably looks about ten years younger.

 

He raises an eyebrow, still smiling. “Someone did their homework, I see.” Emma just chuckles. “What can I say, I like to google people before I work with them.” It’s a somewhat embarrassing habit of hers ever since starring in her first movie. She just likes to know who she works with, she guesses. Shame that she wasn’t able to find out much about Regina online (like how she could keep the other woman from killing her with one look, for example).

 

“And what did you find out about me?” He is still smiling, which is a nice change after Regina’s seemingly permanent resting bitch face, although she hasn’t yet figured out if Graham is flirting with her or if this is the way he talks to everybody. The assumption that that he’s gay seems natural, but (thanks to her earlier google search) she knows for a fact that he’s not.

 

“That all of Broadway loves you.”

 

“I mean, how could they not?” he shoots back, motioning up and down his own body. For a moment she’s afraid that she misjudged him, that he is a completely self-absorbed asshole. But then he laughs. “Just kidding, I’m not as haughty as I might look.”

 

Emma laughs, too. “Good to know, casanova.”

 

“Hey, I’m not—” 

 

“I read about that Victoria’s Secret model you had a thing with. And the other one. And that blond singer. And—” He interrupts her before she can go any further. “Ok ok, point taken.” He laughs again, and she can see why all these girls would fall for him. After all, she’s gay, not blind.

 

Suddenly, he looks at her more seriously.

 

“You know what, Emma? I feel like this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Or you’ll fall madly in love with me. One of the two.”

 

“I wouldn’t bet on the second option, if I were you,” she retorts, looking him straight in the eyes. It’s a response that is innocuous enough, considering that she is not officially out yet because Hollywood still isn’t particularly kind to out gay actresses. But she’s also tired of hiding something that is so integral to who she is, especially here in New York, which, so far from home in LA, seems like a different world, a different life, altogether. There’s something in his eyes then, a sort of acceptance, and she knows that he understood.

 

“Gotcha. Friends, then,” he chuckles, putting an arm around her shoulders.

 

“Friends,” Emma replies, not seeing the daggers Regina shoots at her from across the room.

* * *

 “She hates me,” Emma sighs dramatically, collapsing onto the couch in Graham’s dressing room. He just rolls his eyes, already suspecting what this is about. Once again. Nevertheless, he plays along.

 

“Who?”

 

“Regina.”

 

“What makes you think that,” Graham asks, pushing Emma aside to sit next to her on the couch. She extends her legs onto his lap, sighing.

 

“Apart from the fact that she treats me like I’m a piece of gum on the bottom of her shoe?”

 

“Emma, I seriously doubt she does. She doesn’t even hate me, and I dumped her.”

 

Emma sits up so fast she almost gives herself whiplash.

 

“You what? Why did you never tell me that before?”

 

She can’t really believe it. Regina and Graham? To her, they seem more like siblings—constantly teasing each other—than lovers.

 

“Long story. But, basically, we went to college together, had this thing for a while, and then I broke up with her for someone else. Not that we were madly in love or anything, but still.”

 

Her mind still hasn't completely processed this new piece of information, but then it hits her. Like, _really_ hits her.

 

“Oh my God, you used to bang Regina! You _are_ a goddamn casanova!”

 

“Shut up, Swan. You’re just jealous,” Graham grumbles, as if he is almost uncomfortable to admit he slept with the brunette, which doesn’t make sense at all because Regina is an ultimate babe (when she isn’t being a total bitch, that is).

 

“A little; she’s, like, crazy hot.”

 

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

 

They sit there quietly for a moment, each thinking about Regina, before Emma uses the opportunity to ask what she’s wanted to ask for a while now.

 

“So what is her deal?”

 

Graham purses his lips, not sure if he’s breaching Regina’s confidence by talking to Emma about her, but then he looks over at the woman next to her, this fool with a crush on someone who antagonizes her any chance they get, and he relents.

 

“She’s too ambitious for her own good. Worked her ass off to make it here and wasn’t handed one damn thing. She’s good—really, really good—and I’m one hundred percent sure this is finally her big break. She deserves it.” 

 

Emma nods.

 

“She’s also the queen of pushing people away, though. Especially when she’s afraid they could hurt her. She hasn't had the greatest childhood; overambitious pageant mom, jealous sister, all that jazz. She doesn’t like to let people in because she’s been hurt one too many times.” 

 

“So she actually really likes me but is afraid I’ll break her heart? Sure,” she says, words dripping with sarcasm.

 

“I’m sure she doesn’t really hate you, at least.”

 

If only, Emma thinks.

* * *

Several weeks later, the premiere come and gone, the situation between Emma and Regina still has not improved. They both received raving reviews for their portrayals, some even praising how deep and heartwarming the on-stage connection between their characters seems, which, really, Emma can just laugh about. There is absolutely nothing deep or heartwarming about her relationship to Regina. Regina is still not talking to Emma, unless it’s impatiently hissed instructions or some more abrasive criticism. It wouldn’t have been too bad—Emma has worked with her fair share of Hollywood divas in the past—but from what she’s heard from Graham and from simply seeing the brunette with other cast members she knows that Regina is not a diva, quite the contrary, actually, so this is… different. There is no reason (Emma thinks, anyway) for Regina to hate her. 

 

It’s after another tart barb from Regina following the put-in for a new cast member that Emma finally snaps.

 

“What is your fucking problem with me? What did I ever do to you?”

 

She doesn’t even care that most of the others are still around, that she knows this is not going to actually help their relationship and will, instead, most likely make it even worse. So, to keep the situation from escalating further, she starts to walk away. It’s not like she’ll get a proper response from Regina anyway, so what’s the point? What she does not expect, however, is for Regina to follow her. As the brunette catches up with her, she grabs Emma by the upper arm and spins her around.

 

“I can tell you what you did to me, Miss Swan. You are one of these mediocre Hollywood big shots who just waltz in here and take over the whole damn thing. Others worked their ass off to stand on this stage; others who are so much more talented than you are.”

 

Regina looks about ready to strangle the blonde with her bare hands. It’s deeply unsettling, and although the explanation doesn’t seem completely sound to Emma, she knows how ambitious Regina is. So she nods, looking down onto her feet.

 

She can’t deny that the brunette’s words hurt. They tap right into her own self-doubts, the constant feeling that she’s not good enough to be here, to play this role; that, in a real audition situation, she would have never gotten the part to begin with. 

 

She’s trying so hard, though. She’s putting everything she has into this, not only because she wants to prove herself, but also because she wants to do the role justice. Ever since she first read the libretto she can’t help but identify with Elphaba. Sure, she’s not green, but she’s gay and has gotten enough shit for that to last her a lifetime.

 

“Also, starting something with my ex? Very classy.”

 

Emma’s head snaps up.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I know you and Graham are fucking,” Regina all but spits out, pure disgust on her face.

 

In this moment, Emma is so sick of Regina—of her constant verbal attacks, and her unreasonable assumptions, and her stupidly beautiful face—that she doesn’t even think before shooting back, “Maybe we would be if I weren’t a giant fucking lesbian, Regina. Who the fuck knows?” 

 

This is definitely not how this was supposed to go, but alas. She just came out to her co-star. Who hates her guts and might spread this around just to spite her. But Regina is just staring at her, her mouth a perfect ‘o.’ Emma can’t really identify the emotion on the other woman’s face, isn’t sure if she really wants to, actually.

 

“Are we done here,” she grumbles, because she is about ready to do what she does best: run. When she doesn’t get an answer, she takes that as her queue and storms away, leaving Regina standing alone in the middle of the hallway.

 

It takes Regina all of two seconds after Emma’s exit to realized that she should go after the blonde and apologize for being such a royal bitch. She is not normally this vicious, not even to people she actually doesn’t like. It has taken her a while to figure out why she treats Emma the way she does. Granted, what she had just told Emma is part of it, albeit a very small one. She worked very hard to be where she is now and, on a few occasions, people who simply were more famous than her got the role over her. It hurts, but it’s not like Emma stole her role; and despite what she just told the other woman, Emma is actually good. She’s got a nice voice and, night after night, she puts so much into the role that, sometimes, Regina is afraid the blonde will combust on stage.

 

Actually, though, she constantly antagonizes Emma because she likes her too much. It’s stupid and childish, but she figured that she should attack before she can get attacked. She’s been crushing on Emma—or rather Emma Swan, famous Hollywood actress—for a while now, ever since the blonde played that bisexual soldier in some Jodie Foster movie.

 

Yes, she definitely needs to apologize, she realizes, so she goes after the blonde.

* * *

 Without warning, Emma bursts into Graham’s dressing room, almost giving the man a heart attack.

 

“I just came out to Regina,” she states matter-of-factly, before collapsing onto the couch.

 

“What? Why?”

 

Emma lets out a dry laugh.

 

“Well, she accused me of sleeping with _you_ , so I replied that maybe I would if I weren’t a giant fucking lesbian.”

 

For a moment, Graham regards her with a contemplative look, before he bursts out laughing.

 

“Oh my God, Emma, that’s fucking hilarious.” 

 

In lieu of an answer, she throws one of the pillows on the couch in the general direction of Graham’s head. She misses horribly.

 

“Yeah, it’s gonna be really hilarious when no one in Hollywood wants to hire me anymore because they’re afraid my gay ass will scare off viewers.”

 

This is the end of it. Regina is going to out her, she can forget about her career, and she will, once again, be the family disappointment. 

 

Graham pokes her arm.

 

“Come on, you can always just stay in New York. It’s way nicer here, anyway.”

 

“Debatable,” Emma mutters, although she actually really enjoys New York, is even considering at least buying an apartment here. “But back to Regina.” 

 

At the mention of her name, the brunette, currently outside of Graham’s dressing room door unbeknownst to Emma and Graham, freezes. Emma is talking about her. She’s talking about her to Graham, of all people. Great.

 

“It’s just so goddamn frustrating working with her. Literally, this is the worst things have ever been with a co-star, and I’ve worked with real assholes. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to work with her anymore, Graham.” 

 

Regina’s heart is beating hard in her chest; so hard that she’s afraid the two people inside the dressing room might actually hear it. Emma hates her. Of course she does, how could she not after the way Regina has treated her? The brunette is embarrassed by her own nasty behavior, hot tears already burning in her eyes. What she doesn’t see from outside the room is the way Graham silently raises his eyebrows, calling out Emma on what he thinks is complete bullshit.

 

She needs to get out here, away from this conversation she’s not supposed to listen to anyway; from Emma, who apparently hates her just as much as she pretends to hate her. She tried to tell herself that it’s easier to just show Emma the cold shoulder, to not be weak and vulnerable. Hearing Emma say these things still hurts, though, despite these idiotic precautions Regina has taken.

 

Turning around, she almost runs back to her own dressing room. She never hears Emma continue talking.

 

“Ok, you're right. What I really want is for her to like me, to say yes when I ask her out, and then I want to have dirty, hot sex with her. _That’s_ what I want.”

 

At this point, Graham is full on laughing, which, ok, rude. Emma halfheartedly slaps his biceps, cursing her own damn luck. She hates this. She hates Regina and Graham and Broadway. Everything. It all sucks balls.

* * *

In the time after their heated argument in front of the whole cast, Emma is not surprised that Regina is even more distant and moody than she was before. They haven’t exchanged a word in more than three weeks and even their performances seem to suffer at this point, because both, on several occasions, get asked by fans at the stage door if they are fighting or something—questions that they try to evade as smoothly as they can without giving anyone the idea that their suspicions are indeed correct. 

 

Tonight, they are on stage together again. Up until this point it went well, but the characters they play just went from enemies to friends, which is a moment Emma dreads anew each night, though she does enjoy watching Regina improvise the most random stuff during "Popular." Regina is a great performer—strong voice,  loads of charisma, and a great dancer—but it’s during the scene in which Glinda and Elphaba first become friends that her comedic talent comes forth. You never know what she comes up with next.

 

Right now, she is jumping around like a child high on sugar, and the audience is absolutely loving it, judging by their amused laughter.

 

“We’re gonna make you,” she sings, skipping from one foot to the other, “pop… u… l—AHH!” The sudden cry of pain snaps Emma out of her musings. She watches in horror as Regina’s leg buckles under her in a way that looks physically impossible, before the brunette crashes to the ground.

 

Emma can’t stop herself from calling out the other woman’s name, thereby breaking character, as she rushes to her side. Regina, being the stubborn person she is, is already trying to get back up in order to continue with the song as if nothing happened. Emma can see the pain in her eyes, though. 

 

She’s so focused on Regina, she doesn’t even realize that the curtain is slowly coming down. It’s not like she cares, anyway.

 

“I’m fine,” Regina grunts, but she still uses Emma’s offered arm to pull herself up. Right away, though, because apparently Regina is a masochist, she tries to take a step. Only that she can’t put any weight on her right leg, so Emma catches her before she can fall once again.

 

In a spur of the moment decision, and before Regina can try something else that is stupid and is going to hurt her even more just because she doesn’t want anything to do with Emma, the blonde picks Regina up bridal style. The smaller woman gasps.

 

“What in the world are you doing? Let me down.”

 

Emma ignores her protests and starts to walk in the direction of their dressing rooms. The frantic stage manager and about half the cast are hot on her heals.

 

“Miss Swan,” Regina continues, tone lowering.

 

“Shut up, I’m trying to help you. I know you’re in pain, even though you’re too proud to admit it.”

 

Emma takes it as a victory when Regina doesn’t say anything else and, instead, relaxes in her arms.

* * *

Shuffling from foot to foot, Emma nervously clutches at the brown paper bag in one, and the to go cup in the other hand. This is a terrible mistake, she is sure of it, but she already knocked, so it’s kind of too late to bail now.

 

Why exactly she’s in front of the door to Regina’s apartment she does not one hundred percent know; it just seemed like the right thing to do.

 

Suddenly, the door is yanked open.

 

“Emma? What are you doing here?” Regina, without make up, in yoga pants and an oversized grey shirt, seems genuinely surprised to see her instead of instantly pissed, which is a definite improvement (or maybe just the shock, who knows). She’s on crutches, her knee in a big black brace.

 

“I wanted to see if you’re ok, you took quite the fall,” she replies, trying to sound calmer and more self-confident than she actually is.

 

“Since I’m not on stage at the moment, I’m obviously not ‘ok.’”

 

“Right,” she mutters, trying not to show how much it hurts that Regina is apparently chronically unable to not be bitchy around her. Well, she’s already here, so she might as well test Regina’s boundaries.

 

“Can I come in?” 

 

The look Regina gives her, a mixture of pure shock and pleasant surprise, is priceless and Emma needs to hold herself back in order not to laugh out loud. What she doesn’t expect, though, is for Regina to step (or rather hobble) to the side and motion for her to step inside.

 

The apartment is lots of black and white. There are a few photos Emma doesn’t dare to look at more closely, and a cat tree in the corner. Figures, Regina is a cat person. Emma swallows once, turning around to face Regina behind her.

 

“Here, I brought you cupcakes. Red Velvet. Graham said they’re your favorite.” 

 

She extends them like a peace offering. Regina just stares at her. She raises the to go cup. 

 

“This one’s for you, too; a White Chocolate Mocha.” 

 

Regina still doesn’t say anything.

 

“The show is not the same without you. I mean, Tink is a great Glinda, but… well, she’s not you, you know.” 

 

Yeah, ok, this was definitely a mistake. She puts the bag with the cupcakes and the coffee on a side table next to her.

 

“Well, I guess I should go. It was good to see you, Regina. Take care,” she says quietly, a feeling of wistfulness at one more failed attempt to connect with her co-star washing over her. Why does she always fall for the difficult ones?

 

She is past the other woman, almost at the door already, when she hears a soft voice.

 

“Emma, wait!”

 

She turns immediately.

 

“Yeah?”

 

For the first time since Emma’s met the other woman, Regina smiles at her. It’s more of a pout, really. But it’s something, at least. A start. Maybe.

 

“Thank you for stoping by. Really. I know… I know I have not always been exactly nice to you.”

 

Emma can’t help but let out a chuckle.

 

“That’s a slight understatement, but ok.”

 

Regina gives her an annoyed look, but there’s the hint of a smirk on her lips.

 

“ _Anyway_ , I appreciate this,” she says, looking almost bashful. “I am aware that you are not necessarily my biggest fan either.”

 

“What are you talking about? I like you. I mean—”

 

“No need to lie to my face. I know you told Graham how frustrating it is to deal with me. I heard you.”

 

Emma wants to smack her head against the wall, because _of course_ Regina heard that. She speaks before she can think twice.

 

“I told Graham that it is frustrating to deal with you _because_ you seem to hate my guts when I just really want to ask you out. Maybe you should have eavesdropped a little longer.”

 

This gives Regina pause. 

 

“You what?”

 

Emma waves it off, eager to forget that this whole thing ever even happened.

 

“Forget it. I’m aware you’re not… whatever. Anyway, I need to go. Take care, Regina.”

 

As she flees the apartment, angry at herself for being such a complete fucking moron, hot tears fall from her eyes.

* * *

It's two days after the utter disaster in Regina’s apartment. Emma just finished another show, this time with Belle as Glinda, and she can’t wait to get off the green color, go home, and eat some instant noodles on her couch while watching TLC to unwind. She is so in her own head, mentally debating if she should go for chicken or shrimp flavor, that she, at first, doesn’t even notice the person sitting on the couch in her dressing room. It’s only when she’s already taken off her costume and turns around that she sees the woman and almost yelps in surprise. Her heart is beating like crazy and she raises a hand to her chest, breathing hard.

 

“Jesus, Regina! Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?”

 

Regina shrugs, face unmoving.

 

“Not particularly, no.”

 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Emma snarks back, pulling a towel from the back of her chair and draping it around her half naked body. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Well, you just up and left the other day and I didn’t have your number, so…”

 

Regina seems suddenly nervous as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt.

 

“You could’ve asked Graham.”

 

As nervous as Regina seems (which is very nervous), Emma is even closer to losing it than Regina appears to be. There’s no reason for the brunette to be here right now, and that is exactly what is so unnerving to Emma. Regina, normally so fierce and unapologetic, is as mild as a dove, and Emma is convinced that it’s a trap. It has to be.

 

“I wasn’t sure you were going to answer your phone, to be honest. You almost tripped over your own feet trying to get away from me.”

 

Emma shrugs, sitting down on the chair in front of her dressing table, back to Regina.

 

“Well, I don’t really like to make a fool of myself, so…”

 

“You didn’t, though.”

 

“Didn’t what,” Emma asks, busying herself with taking off her makeup.

 

“Make a fool of yourself.”

 

She looks at the brunette behind her through the mirror.

 

“Regina, I’m pretty sure that telling someone you want to go out with them when they very clearly do _not_ want that is the very definition of making a fool of yourself.”

 

“You’re not a fool; you’re just an idiot,” the brunette replies, smiling. It’s a smile Emma has never seen Regina direct at her. It’s warm and… wistful, maybe? Every alarm bell in Emma’s head goes off at it immediately.

 

“Gee, thanks.” 

 

Emma is done with this conversation. Hell, she is _beyond_ done. Of course Regina would come here just to humiliate her, how did she ever think Regina could want good things for her, even for only a second. She’s still cursing her stupid self for even going to Regina’s apartment in the first place. It was a foolish plan that could only backfire, anyway.

 

The blonde is just about to tell Regina to stuff it and leave, when the other woman starts talking again.

 

“An idiot I, for some reason, want to go out with,” Regina says so quietly that, at first, Emma thinks she imagined it.

 

“What?”

 

Regina gets up then, and walks over to where Emma is sitting. She comes to stand right behind her. Emma can smell her perfume—something that smells expensive, and really, really nice.

 

“Come have dinner with me.”

 

It’s louder this time and Emma sees Regina’s lips move in the mirror, so, apparently, she is not hallucinating. She stands and turns to face the brunette, utterly confused.

 

“I thought you didn’t like me,” she utters, because nothing about this makes sense. Regina hates her. But then she remembers Graham’s words— _she’s the queen of pushing people away, especially when she’s afraid they could hurt her_ —remembers Regina relaxing in her arms, Regina’s look when she came to her apartment, how jealous Regina seemed when she accused her of sleeping with Graham.

 

Oh.

 

She looks at Regina. Regina, who is smiling at her, _really_ smiling at her.

 

“And that’s why you’re an idiot,” the brunette whispers, cupping Emma’s cheek as she presses a kiss to the corner of the blonde’s lips.


End file.
